Set Fire to the Third Bar
by Sunchaser55
Summary: Frustration and extreme amounts of guilt take it's hold on Jean as he struggles with his feelings for the deceased Marco, as well as his developing feelings for Armin.


**Hey again, fellow Jearmin fans~! This is my second Jearmin fic, and I still have one other one to post also. Hopefully I start writing some more again, because I have all these Armin and Jean feels lately, but just no ideas that have been inspirational enough for me. Haha. Regardless, I hope you enjoy reading this one!**

**Oh my gosh, though I feel so dumb now! I wrote this back when there were still only 17 episodes. Right after Armin hit his head. I had no idea that their expedition wouldn't even last until the nighttime (considering I haven't read the manga just yet), which is this oneshot's timeline. So it completely conflicts with EVERYTHING, and I'm so sorry. I was totally looking forward to seeing them all camping and stuff too. x'D But yes... I hope this fact doesn't irk any of you lovely readers. I guess this is why I shouldn't write ahead. *blush***

**Awww, and with the song I used, you should go listen to it! It's lovely. I like to imagine that with the lyrics used here, that it's about Jean's feelings for Marco. But that the last three lines represent Armin's coming into his life. **

**Paring(s): Jean x Armin, Jean x Marco**

**WARNING: Yaoi & angst**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Attack on Titan, nor do I own the song used in this fic. **

* * *

**_Set Fire to the Third Bar_**

_Their words mostly noises_

_Ghosts with just voices_

_Your words in my memory_

_Are like music to me_

_I'm miles from where you are,_

_I lay down on the cold ground_

_I pray that something picks me up_

_and sets me down_

_in your warm arms_

_(Snow Patrol & Martha Wainwright)_

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The firelight crackled and flickered loudly when compared to the muteness of the eerie night. The full, silver moon hung high in the sky, replacing the searing rays of the sun that had been beating down on the large group of aching, battered, and grieving people only hours ago – the ones who were brave enough to venture out into territory that was invested by the horrifying creatures known as Titans.

They'd hardly even scratched the inside of the fallen Wall Maria, and with more losses then they would have liked too. But for now, the night time brought them much needed peace. Titan activity decreased significantly when the sun sank back into the horizon, taking away the Titan's only known source of energy thus far : sunlight.

The peace that night brought upon them was much needed. There were still several members of the scouting legion that needed treating, and some that simply needed to sleep : Armin Arlert being one of them. The blonde haired boy was snuggled within his sleeping pack, his eyelids closed, and his brows furrowed in what could only be interpreted as his response to the throbbing that his head endured.

Jean Kirstein, sat across from him, resting his chin on a single, propped up knee as he peered past their campfire so that he could gaze upon the injured Armin – his face glowing with the dancing flames of their firelight. He could still remember all too vividly when Armin had been thrown from his horse, tumbling across grassy plains as his limbs tangled with one another and his gear was basically torn from his body. Jean had watched with horror, sluggishly wondering whether or not Armin had permanently left him. His heart had stopped, fear consuming him with it's icy fingers as he was made to believe that he would have to experience the loss of a friend all over again. He could still remember the blood that had pooled in the grass next to the motionless blonde ; the crimson substance that had stained the majority of his face. Yet here he was. Alive.

At first, Jean had been afraid that Armin may have sustained brain damage of some kind considering the boy had been acting quite delusional before, but he seemed fine now as the brunette continued to eye him.

"Armin?" Jean called the blonde's name tentatively, checking to make sure that he was okay considering he'd been quiet for the past few moments. "You haven't kicked the bucket yet, have you?"

Jean would never admit it, but even the mere possibility of losing somebody like the way he'd lost Marco was... it was unbearable. It scared him beyond belief. _Especially _the thought of losing Armin...

Armin's eyes fluttered open slowly, "Hmmm?" His voice sounded so very weak. "That's a pretty mean thing to say to somebody. Then again, you've just been mean to me all day, haven't you?"

"Awww, that's cute, Armin," Jean teased, rolling his eyes in the process at what came next, "I've been here taking care of you since you hit your damned head and you call that mean? I think you need to thank me for ensuring you're not gonna go mental on us."

Armin smiled slightly despite the way his tone wound up sounding more cynical than anything, "Lucky me..."

"If you're well enough to be sarcastic, then you're fine. I shouldn't even be worrying about you." He lowered his raised knee, sitting cross-legged as he placed his hands in his lap. He couldn't help but sigh lightly, taking in Armin's serene figure. Jean's eyes drifted to the bandage that hugged around his forehead, narrowing them a bit as he began to wonder whether Armin was _actually _okay or not – all jokes aside.

"Does... it hurt?" Jean asked cautiously, reluctant as he found himself feeling a bit shy asking Armin at all. He added hastily, wondering if the blonde would even understand what he was trying to say. "Your concussion or whatever, I mean."

Armin's eyes flickered up to meet Jean at that, a faint look of astonishment within them. It wasn't often that Jean displayed concern for... well, just about anybody. He seemed to be surprising Armin more and more each day. Just the fact that Jean had stayed with him, regardless of his jeering, was quite unusual. It seemed Jean had been looking out for him whenever he really could since their joining of the Survey Corps. So for about a month now.

He nodded his head, smiling tiredly in hopes that maybe he could subdue Jean's concern. He didn't want anybody to worry about him, primarily when he was perfectly fine. His head throbbed a little bit, but most of all, he was just exhausted. "I'm just tired, I think. My head doesn't even hurt all too much. I just have a slight headache."

"Then get to resting your ass," Jean basically commanded, stabbing a finger at him, "You're no use to us if you make yourself feel like shit!"

Armin's nose scrunched up, the firelight highlighting where his skin wrinkled. Jean suddenly found himself thinking that it looked sort of cute, which he frantically tried to chase from his thoughts once he processed it. W-what the hell was he thinking?

"You should work on your way with words if that's your own strange way of looking out for somebody. You're too curt. You're lucky I know you beyond just that," Armin mumbled, yawning once the words left his mouth. He didn't feel up to having these types of conversations with the very blunt Jean. At least he knew how to handle him, anyway...

"Pfft... Whatever. Just rest already."

The blonde nodded, rolling over onto his side – the one that faced Jean – and allowed for his eyes to flutter shut. He'd heard sometimes with concussions that sleep could become difficult, but with the way he felt right then, he was certain that sleep would quickly swallow him up. Before he was completely immersed, the blonde murmured sleepily, "You should rest too, Jean... I wouldn't... want... you... t..."

He was out like a light, trailing off mid-sentence.

"Night, Armin," Jean stood from where he sat on the ground in front of their campfire, stretching. Armin was right. In the next three hours or so, he would be switched with one of the soldiers who was staying up for night duty, so he figured he may as well get as much shut-eye as possible until then. He crawled into his own sleeping bag, hoping that maybe sleep would consume him just as swiftly as it had taken Armin. But lately... Jean had been having trouble with something as simple as sleep. The battle of Trost still plagued his nightmares, as did the loss of Marco... Each time he was forced to relive it, he would awaken breathless and covered in sweat as a scream pleaded to tear it's way through his throat. His heart would ache and his blood would go cold, as if ice water had been injected into his veins. Just thinking about trying to sleep to only experience something so horribly agonizing...

Jean's body began to tremble at the mere thought.

"...Marco," he found himself uttering the boy's name without realizing it, his hand clamping around the fabric of his sleeping bag.

Feeling the sting of tears bombard his eyes and wanting nothing more then to restrain them, Jean shook his head in an attempt to rid himself of the sad thoughts and found himself redirecting his gaze to the sleeping Armin. He focused on him, looking into the blonde's tranquil face.

Jean didn't want to understand why, but Armin made him feel... _happy. _Even despite all of the bad things... All he had to do was look at Armin and everything almost felt okay. He didn't remember when he'd started to feel this way ; when his chest would flutter as he watched Armin smile ; or how he would want nothing more then to make Armin laugh when he looked as if he were about to cry. Or how his heart had stopped when he'd watched with horrified eyes as Armin had sustained his head injury...

Even now, as he watched Armin from where he lay across the campfire – the flames dancing on his face – Jean thought that maybe even his dreams would halt, if only for tonight. If Armin was nearby... then maybe he wouldn't have to think about Marco as oft-

No!

Jean whipped his covers off as he sat up suddenly, anger bubbling to the surface of his mind at even the thought! How could he!? What the hell was he thinking!? What? So he wanted to forget about Marco now!? And for what!?

Jean's bitter glare snapped in the direction of the blonde.

What? For Armin?

Ridiculous.

Hissing through his teeth from the frustration of it all, Jean climbed up from where he sat, his body beginning to quake violently. How could he even think that? How could he let himself feel as if it was better to quell the pain that Marco's death had left within his heart? He wouldn't ever forget!

Jean could feel it as his throat closed up and his eyes built up with tears that threatened to fall at any given moment. His breathing became more ragged the longer his mind continued to remind him of what he'd just thought – of the temptation he'd felt to at least try and move on. But he wouldn't ever move on! He wouldn't allow it! How could he? He didn't want to!

Being around Armin was poisoning his mind! He wouldn't ever feel for him the way he'd felt for Marco! His mind raced, snapping at him that he was merely confusing his feelings for his desire to protect his comrades. He just wanted to make sure that Armin wouldn't die!

He needed to get away, at least just for a few moments so that he could clear his frantic, guilt-stricken mind.

Jean hurried off, veering in the opposite direction of the sleeping blonde. He couldn't stay there for another second! The longer he took in the blonde's form, the harder it was for him to breathe and the more his facial expression contorted as his tears began to spill from his eyes. He understood full well that danger could only await him by wandering off on his lonesome, but if he refused his feelings, he would suffocate. Right then, vulnerability caused by his own recklessness didn't matter nearly as much as his torment.

He roughly swallowed any sobs and gasps, squeezing his eyes shut to only force them back open again as he continued to wander through the darkness of the night. His pace quickened each time his tears worsened, until eventually he'd broken into an aimless run. His throat felt thick, and his sight was blurred by the misery that stained his face. The tears became more and more uncontrollable with each memory that popped into his head ; with each picture of Marco that overtook him.

The pain in his bleeding heart too much to bear, the weeping boy's legs gave out from under him. He crumbled to his knees right before he would have smacked into a tree that'd been blind to him. He bowed his head and raised his arms towards it, raking his nails along it's surface until finally his fingers curled and he gripped onto it – desperate to squeeze at anything right then, as the pain within him was excruciating.

"Marco!" Jean's voice cracked as he cried out, his voice both breathless and thick with tears, "Marco! I'm sorry! **I don't like him!** I **don't**! He **doesn't** make me happy, and I **don't **think he's cute when he smiles! How could I!? Compared to you -" he cut himself off, his lips trembling as he opened his eyes to stare at the grass underneath him. A single hand uncurled from around the bark of the tree, his fingers stiff from clutching at it's surface so desperately. It fell limply to his side until slowly, he used it to grasp at his tear-stricken face, covering it as he bit the inside of his mouth – hoping to stop the tears that he could feel were about to intensify at his own words. Deep down he knew full well how he felt about Armin. There was no denying it.

His hands squeezed at his face and he shut his eyes tightly as his flowing tears spilled into it, and sobs escaped him. He hunched over until his forehead touched the cold earth beneath him. "I'm sorry, Marco! I'm sorry! I'm not forgetting about you! I promise! I'm so, so, _**so **_sorry!" All he could do was lay there, shaking violently as he fought to catch his breath, but to no avail. Maybe... he could just stay here for a little while longer...

He sniffled, his crying calming somewhat as his mind was nothing but a fog of the emotional pain that resided within his very being. It had consumed him. He felt so cold... his entire body.

That was why he gasped loudly, his eyes snapping open the very moment he felt the warmth of another touch his back suddenly. He raised his head, peering behind him as his breath caught in his chest. He knew full well that it was impossible – _**so incredibly impossible **_– but the faintest flicker of hope lit up his mind that maybe, just maybe, Marco had come to him in his time of need.

But of course that couldn't be true.

His mind blanked and his golden eyes widened when he took in Armin's moonlit figure behind him. The blonde was on his knees, both hands placed on the taller boy's back as he buried his head in-between them. He didn't even move when he murmured quietly, "I heard..." he paused, curling his fingers around the fabric of Jean's pine-green coloured scouting cloak. "You don't need to say anything."

"A...Armin..." Jean was too overcome with every other feeling that tickled at his aching heart right then to think about the embarrassment that would later come at the fact that Armin had caught him crying like this ; that Armin understood exactly what it was he was crying about...

Unable to restrain himself any longer, Jean succumbed. His eyebrows knitted together and his lip began to quiver yet again as drops of tears fell from his eyes and splattered onto the grass beneath him.

But this time, even Jean couldn't keep from admitting that the pain in his heart hurt a little bit less now that he could feel the comforting warmth of Armin against him.

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**Sadface. I have too many feels for Jean, Armin and Marco. I'd love any reviews, especially if anybody out there wants to talk about their Jearmin feels with me. xD Thanks so much for reading, all! =) **


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